


A Demonstration

by kkscatnip (autohaptic)



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Age Play, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Daddy Kink, M/M, Public Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-26 11:13:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5002582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autohaptic/pseuds/kkscatnip
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fridays are demo night at the Inquisition. Tonight, Bull and Dorian demo age play.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Demonstration

"Stand up straight, baby boy," Bull says, deliberately making his voice gruff, authoritative.

Dorian scowls. Dressed in the starry night fleece pajamas, it makes it look like he's further into the right headspace than he probably is. Bull's theory is proven right when Dorian snaps out a petulant little, "No, daddy." 

If he were fully into his little headspace, he would giggle or say _make me_ or just wiggle and grin like the brat he is. But it's okay, Bull knows what to do, coming up behind Dorian, putting his hands on Dorian's shoulders and deliberately towering over him--making him feel small. Dorian's gaze, when he looks over his shoulder, says that it's working. 

Bull knows better than to tell him _good_. Instead he lets his hands slide down, straightens out the pajama arms that Dorian pushed halfway up one forearm, pulling them straight. "I don't have to tell you to be on your best behavior, do I?"

This time Dorian's scowl has a degree of playfulness to it, and Bull can't help smiling in response, relaxing. Sometimes it's hard to get Dorian into the right headspace for demos, and Sera did say she could do it if Dorian couldn't, but he's glad tonight will work out, if Dorian's low, mischievous giggle is anything to go by. 

"Think you can keep yourself under control while I set up the stage, baby boy?" Bull asks, shifting around, standing in front of Dorian now, hands on Dorian's shoulders again. 

Dorian's giggle goes higher pitched and he nods in a way that says _not a chance_. "Yes, daddy."

He's there, Bull thinks. Perfect. "Go talk to Sera and Dagna while I set up." If anyone can keep Dorian in the right headspace, it's those two. 

*

Bull kind of wonders sometimes what his life would be like without the Inquisition. A lot less busy on weekends, yeah. More time to bury himself in his work--not necessarily a good thing. 

But a lot less full, too, he thinks as he sets out the whiteboard he may or may not write on along with the St Andrew's Cross that has the hand-holds that Dorian likes best, plus the reinforcing beams at the top and bottom. He debates setting out more, but then catches Dorian watching him and decides he's not going to give Dorian a better chance to predict what he thinks is going to happen. 

It's better when Dorian doesn't think he knows what is going to happen, especially when he's little. More chances for improv, which Bull loves, and surprises, which Dorian loves to hate. 

*

When Bull realizes that his bad ankle is going to be giving him hell tonight, he adds a chair next to the whiteboard, just in case. At least his shoulder is cooperating. 

*

By the time eight o'clock rolls around, the thirty chairs that were set out for the demo crowd are all full, and Bull only recognizes about two-thirds of the faces. A busy night, which he expected, but is still gratifying to see how many people are interested in an ageplay demo. 

Dorian is sitting between Sera and Dagna, talking animatedly to Blackwall, who is seated next to Dagna and seems to be enjoying himself despite his professed lack of interest in the demo subject. By the way Dorian's sitting, legs spread, hands on the chair between his legs, but leaning forward, perched, he's thoroughly little and it makes Bull smile. 

Time to start, he thinks, and walks up on the little stage he and Dagna built. 

*

Bull does write on the board: _Ageplay_ , and then the kinks that people shout in response to him asking what the think of when they hear ageplay. Of course, they're tame at first: _roleplay, mommies and daddies, good boys and girls, dressing up, discipline, spanking_. 

One of the people Bull doesn't recognize, a qunari woman with white hair, speaks up: "Daddy issues," she says, with increasing color in her cheeks.

There we go, Bull thinks gratefully, and writes _daddy and mommy issues_. "Yes, most people who like ageplay have issues with their parents, thank you. Anything else?" 

Like a torrent, other suggestions come: _watersports, lactation, diapers_. Bull likes it when the crowd makes his job easy. "That's right--there are all kinds of places you can go with ageplay, depending on what you want to explore." 

Speaking of exploring, Dorian is now in Blackwall's lap, not facing Bull at all, which is for Dorian a scream for attention, an open challenge of _ignore me at your peril_ that Bull is intimately familiar with. "Dorian," Bull says, sharp, authoritative. 

Dorian freezes for a moment, then squirms, turning around in Blackwall's lap without actually falling out, which is a miracle considering the only thing Blackwall's doing to keep him there is not leaning forward. He's leaning away, looking distinctly uncomfortable while Dorian grinds out a whiny, bratty "Whaaaat, daddy?" 

"Did you _ask_ if you could sit in Blackwall's lap, baby boy?" Bull asks, capping the marker and letting it sit in the tray as he walks to the edge of the stage and resists the urge to drag Dorian onstage by his ear. 

Naturally, Dorian's bottom lip pushes out for a moment before it seems like an acceptable answer occurs to him and his face brightens almost comically. "He doesn't mind?" he asks, looking at Blackwall, then at Bull, mischief and pleasure in his eyes. 

"Blackwall," Bull says, catching Blackwall's gaze--he looks a little like a drowned cat. "Do you want him in your lap?" 

Blackwall clears his throat, looks uncomfortably to Dagna, who shrugs, and then back to Bull. "Want might be a strong word for it." 

"Come here, Dorian," Bull says, in the same authoritative voice from earlier, sitting down in his chair and doing his best not to sigh gratefully. 

Dorian slides out of Blackwall's lap with grace, then proceeds to all but stomp his way up onto the stage. It's kind of impressive, given the fuzzy slippers on his feet, and Bull can't help but admire how perfect of an example of a fucking brat Dorian is. 

"Ageplay tends to vary based on the needs of the people playing," he says, while Dorian has his little tantrum up to the stage. "For some people, they're aware of the role, still aware of--themselves. But for other people, it's a bit like getting deep down into another kind of subspace--once they're there, they're really not aware of any other headspace." 

Onstage now, Dorian crosses his arms over his chest, pulling a face. 

"Apologize," Bull tells him. 

"Sorry," Dorian blurts out, but not at all like he actually is. His arms are still crossed over his chest, and he's not even looking at Blackwall. 

Given Dorian, it's fucking miracle that he even came close to apologizing on the first try, and Bull's not going to try for more. "Thank you, baby boy," he says, as warmly as he can, and then faces the crowd again. "What you do depends on what you and your little need. You don't have to do little/big, but it's a good idea to have a babysitter around, if not a big, if your little is _anything_ like my brat here."

A general round of laughter accompanies Dorian snorting and turning away, stomping over to the whiteboard and using the sleeve of his pajamas to erase _daddy and mommy issues_ and everything below it. 

Bull doesn't sigh. "For some brats, the thing they want mostly is just attention. For others..." He reaches over, grabs the gathered waist of Dorian's one-piece fleece pajamas and yanks him away from the whiteboard and onto Bull's lap. "They want to be punished."

"I just want you to pay attention to me!" Dorian squaks, indignant, while Bull pulls him close, not quite into a hug, but Dorian's struggling to get away, so it's easy to hold him close without strictly hugging him, even if that is what Bull would do, given his druthers.

Dorian wouldn't accept it, is the thing, and they both know it. "For most people, ageplay's about being taken care of," he says, while they do the thing that Dorian accepts in lieu of hugs and true affection. He tries to get away--not very hard--and Bull pulls him close until Dorian's a little red-faced, a lot out of breath, and most of the way to aroused. "Talk to your little before and during, and see what kind of care they need. Baby boy, do you want to be punished?" 

"No," Dorian drawls, whiny and low and descending into a giggle as general squirming turns to very obviously wiggling his ass. 

He knows what's coming, clearly, and there is an answering giggle from the audience. 

"Body language is important," Bull says, grinning as he reaches down and cups one hand over Dorian's ass through the pajamas. He's wearing underwear, too. "They'll often tell you what they want without meaning to." 

Dorian whimpers, pushing back against Bull's hand and at the same time hiding his face against Bull's arm. 

"I know, baby boy," Bull tells him, softly. Louder, to make sure everyone can hear: "Do you still want me to spank you up here on stage?" 

He lifts his head away from Bull's arm long enough that Bull can see the way he's biting his lip, nodding, even if he says, loud enough for the audience to hear, "I didn't earn a spankin'."

"You don't think sitting in Blackwall's lap and interrupting my presentation is worthy of a spanking?" Bull asks, keeping his voice gentle but firm. 

The answering giggle Dorian gives and the way his eyes go big and innocent says better than anything else that he knows he earned it, even if he's drawling out an increasingly high-pitched "No..."

Bull looks to the audience. "It's a good idea to set up boundaries before your little gets into headspace, too, especially if you're doing anything for the first time, or going to be in public. Dorian asked to remain clothed, so even though I know he wouldn't protest me taking off his pajamas now--" Dorian squirms, and Bull can't help cutting off, talking to him, "Would you, baby boy?" 

Dorian shakes his head, obviously red-cheeked now, squirming again in a way that makes Bull grin and feel like he's won the lottery. 

"Right, so, even though he wouldn't mind now, he said no earlier, so. Go assume the position, baby boy." 

Bull expects resistance, and the way Dorian's giggles go low and mischief sneaks into his gaze is priceless. He knows what Dorian will say, and mentally whispers it along with Dorian: " _Make_ me, daddy." 

Gladly, Bull thinks, and pulls down the zipper on Dorian's pajamas enough to slide his hand inside. He shifts Dorian so that he can whisper in Dorian's ear while he takes hold of one of Dorian's nipple piercings, pulling until Dorian makes a high, pained noise, and proceeding to whisper far too soft for the audience to hear. "If you don't get over on that cross right this minute, I'm going to say fuck the demo, take off your pajamas, and make you scream right here in front of all of these people." He wouldn't, of course. He'd take Dorian to one of the side rooms, but it's an effective threat. 

Dorian's squirming as much as he can with Bull pulling on his piercing like that, minute little motions, and making the most delicious little yelps but also no movement toward the St Andrew's cross. He sounds like he's going to say no, rolling the N, but what he ends up saying is "Daddy," soft, desperate, not quite refusal to do as he's told. 

Bull grins at the audience "Find out what method of persuasion works for your little. Dorian needs threats only he knows about, but they don't always work. Lucky, I found something else that's more effective." With that, he leans down, pushes Dorian's pajamas out of the way, and bites the right side of Dorian's neck, toward the back, that triangle of muscle. 

Like a scruffed cat, Dorian goes limp and his eyes roll back and the noise he makes is pure pleasure, his hips stuttering against Bull's hand. Bull sucks for a moment, then lets go, growls, "Go," loud enough for the audience to hear.

Dorian does, facedown against the cross, hands fisted on the hand-holds, body tense with need as he leans there. 

"I find generally littles who don't enjoy punishment tend to respond better to less severe punishments," Bull says as he pushes himself up, groaning a little at the way his ankle protests. He should've worn the brace tonight, clearly. "But if you have a fucking brat who enjoys every punishment you give him..." Bull unbuckles his belt, pulls it through the loops slowly as he takes the few steps over to Dorian. He doubles it, pauses for a moment, and then snaps it, the sound loud and echoing off the cinder block walls. 

The full-body shudder that goes through Dorian would've been evident even without the little jump, the little yelp, but all three together are beautiful and the perfect silence of the room is better than Bull could've hoped for. "Have some fun with it." 

Bull proceeds to strap Dorian's ass thoroughly. He doesn't hit hard, instead focusing on what he knows will drive Dorian to the edge faster, what he knows will make his little brat breathless and needy: fast, frequent hits that are barely more than glancing, but over and over in the same spot. 

He watches Dorian go from tense to leaning into the belt to his arms flexing, hands shifting as he all but begins to climb the cross. Bull thinks _now_ , delivers two more blows in quick succession, by the end of which Dorian yells, "Yellow, daddy, yellow!" 

Little, Dorian won't say red. Yellow is his red. Bull drops his belt and presses himself behind Dorian, arms going around Dorian's middle as Dorian shakes and starts to cry a little. It's not as much as usual--no sobbing, barely even any gasping--but Bull lets him have his moment as privately as possible, pressing him there against the cross so no one but Bull can see him. 

"Okay, baby boy?" Bull asks, when Dorian's tears dry up.

Dorian nods, head floppy, and Bull doesn't listen to his ankle, picks Dorian up then and there and carries him to the edge of the stage, where he sits down with Dorian in his lap, Dorian's face against his neck. 

"You were so good," he tells Dorian, gently, and kisses Dorian's face, kisses his wet cheeks. It's--they argued, whether the audience should see this part or not, but in the end Dorian agreed that they needed to know what kind of reactions were likely to happen after punishment, should they choose to do that.

"Sometimes all someone needs is the space to misbehave," Bull says, looking out at the audience. "Without, you know, all society's rules about the ways they're allowed to misbehave. It's complicated, but it can be--" he looks down at Dorian, who sighs, eyes half-open, and Bull's chest feels tight in the best way. "--really fucking rewarding when you figure out what's right for both of you."

With one hand over Dorian's face, Bull starts the Q&A section. 

*

Around the time Dorian pushes Bull's hand away, Bull knows that he's more big than little again. He presses a kiss to Dorian's lips, and Dorian returns it. Bull turns to the audience, who are mostly asking variations on the same questions at this point. "Does anyone have any questions for Dorian?" 

"Why?" someone, a blond who's been silent up until now but looked interested the entire time, though the blush that stained his cheeks during the spanking part has faded. "Like, why ageplay? Why not just let him beat you?" 

Dorian shifts, humming in a way that is low and pleased. He kind of slides out of Bull's lap, but doesn't try to remove Bull's arm from around him, instead standing between Bull's legs, looking the blond squarely in the eyes. "My parents sucked. It's kind of a do-over." 

Bull nods. "We've tried not punishing him when he acts out--it doesn't work, he hates it. I think it's 'cause he's not being taken care of. That's my job with him, when he's little." 

"What he said." The grin on Dorian's face when he turns around and buries his face in Bull's chest is wide, uninhibited. Bull loves it. 

The audience clearly does, too, and they aww and begin a round of applause.


End file.
